Of Loss and Madness: A RDNAverse Tale
by mdc1957
Summary: It is the 1940s. The Liberation has come and gone. But as New Austria finds herself cut off from the world and her Canadian friend pays a visit, both find themselves facing horrors far deeper than the battlefield. Another RDNA-verse story unravels.
1. Chapter 1: 1949

**Author's Notes and Disclaimer:**

Well, here's another entry into the AU RDNA-verse. This one in particular takes place 10-15 years after (most of) _The Personal Records of a Doctor, _during and after an alternate war in Britain_._ shifting in perspective and time period between Matthew/Canada and Francesca/New Austria (an alternate history Mexico, in case you're wondering) and showing the effects this all had on their peoples (and sanity). As a warning of sorts, there are hints to Canada/Ukraine and _possibly_ America/Russia. Also, this story does get more graphic and darker than the previous stories, though I don't want to call this a Dark Fic just yet. Hopefully.

Just to put this out of the way. I do not own _Axis Powers Hetalia, _whose rights belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. All else referenced belong to their respective owners.

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><p><strong>Of Loss and Madness: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>

Montreal, British Dominion of Canada. 7 May 1949

Not many people took the old Dual Crowns route. Once, it had symbolized the friendship between the British and Habsburg Empires. These days, some thought of simply cutting off the connection at the last American station. Those who had tickets by then were mainly on official business. One in particular was delivered to an out of the way flat in Le Plateau-Mont-Royal. But at the moment, it was being waved frantically in front of its recipient by his twin brother.

"You're really going there, Mattie? Look, I know you've got the envoy excuse. But_ seriously?_"

The host, one Matthew Williams, let out a quiet sigh. "It's fine, Alfred. How many times do I have to say it? There's nothing special."

"Bringing your bosses and a bunch of officers over ain't that simple, you know. Just call in sick or something." His brother's eyes narrowed. "You haven't been Kraut-side in three years. And it's not like New Vienna's the safest place in the world."

"Heh. It's not like _they'll_ notice me." He gave a soft, knowing chuckle. "But let's face it: we both know the _real_ reason. Our peoples do. So do the others." _Please don't play dumb with me._

"Yeah," Alfred retorted. "The fifth anniversary of V-B Day's coming up. Don't think I've forgotten _everything _about the Liberation."

Matthew knew him too well to not even bother. _No point anyway._ In any case, neither of them, nor the rest of their kind, could remove those events from their memories. They were there, fighting and freeing the British Isles against the Reds. The Canadian himself still bore the scars of his soldiers and wisps of ravaged English countryside. None of them took any real pleasure in the worse parts of it. _Except her. _His thoughts quickly snapped back.

"Neither did me, brother. It's not that my leaders are dying to make the trip. Trust me: _I'm_not so keen with this either."

"Nothing's stopping you, really," the embodiment grunted. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I've got your back. Just in case something goes wrong there. I'm the hero, after all!"

"Don't you have some Russians to look after?"

"Fine. I have to get going anyway." The twin gave a slight, though forced smile. "Just tell Francesca I said 'Hi.'"

Sure that the American's footsteps were no longer heard, the Nation made his way to the kitchen. As was his routine, he took out some food for his pet bear cub. There was more than enough time later, after all, for packing bags. Yet he couldn't put his mind fully at ease. _Then again, it hasn't been for a while._

"_Mon Dieu_. What should I do now, Katya?"


	2. Chapter 2: The English Countryside

**Author's Notes:**

From this point on and every other chapter, I chose to alternate the perspective from Francesca/New Austria's point of view, chronicling her mental breakdown over the course of the war. Which hopefully explains why the setting and time period seems to inexplicably change. Also, "Papa" is a reference to (sort-of spoiler) Austria.

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><p><strong>Of Loss and Madness: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>

Devon countryside, England. 19 November 1943.

"Are you alright, _Fraulein_?"

Francesca snapped out of her reverie to find one of her officers approaching her. She recognized him as Janos Mihaly of the 1st Hungarian Rifles, a man well known to her and her "late" parents. _I should stop doing that._ "I'm fine, Colonel," she replied with a measured smile. "I just find the whole thing _strange._"

He nodded in agreement. "It's been like this for a while."

Before both of them laid the outskirts of Honiton as the few remaining Red stragglers were being pursued. The town, or what remained it, had been inexplicably abandoned by the enemy along with others in the area, apparently to regroup further east. Compared to previous weeks, it seemed as though the fighting was finally letting up. There were similar occurrences further north as well; some were even beginning to think that the campaign would actually be over by Christmas. Yet it also seemed _too_ convenient.

The Magyar watched her stand up from the trench, a young lady dressed in a cavalry officer's uniform. He had long since learned not to be fooled by her appearance. "We might as well push forward. Our men could move in before they have time to strike."

"l see, but..." Her eyes betrayed at once the discipline, anxiety and anticipation of the soldiers around them. She knew as well that the other commanders were making similar moves. _Then again, there's only one way to be sure. _"Go ahead, Colonel. We have some Englishmen to free."

"_Jawohl, meine Fraulein_."

After returning salutes, she took to her horse and joined the rest of her men. The Nation could already see some of the other units advancing ahead of her. She mustered her best face, feeling the familiar tinge of bravado course into her. There was no time for speeches. _It's now or never._

"Onward!' she shouted "For God, Liege and Country!"

For what seemed a moment, the scene looked right out of a pitched battle. _Like Papa's old stories, _she thought wistfully. Flags flying proudly. The sounds of horses and tanks meshed with a symphony of rallying cries while the air roared with the sound of planes. Moving relentlessly, knowing that each inch of land freed was payback against the Reds. And she was on the winning side. Before long, the town was right in front of her. Victory seemed assured.

Then the explosions came. Around her, the men found themselves in complete shock as ambushers started streaming out of the town. Desperately, she fired blindly, struggling to stay focused. Amidst the screams, she could hear and feel the dying gasps of her men. From the distance, she could make out the all too familiar banners and massed swarms of the Reds. It was clear that the whole situation had been a set-up. _Gott..._

"Fall back! Please! For the love of God, DON'T DIE!" She looked on in immense pain and horror as her men succumbed to the trap. Then she felt nothing.


	3. Chapter 3: A Safe Journey

**Author's Notes:**

After going through possible names, it turns out that Sakharov is an actual Ukrainian surname. Which goes some ways in explaining Canada's role and situation in the RDNA-verse.

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><p><strong>Of Loss and Madness: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>

Pennsylvania State, American Federation. 8 May 1949.

As Matthew Williams, he found the attempt to keep the train low-profile laughable; the staged stops and American agents in their conspicuously uniform suits and hats weren't fooling anyone. As Canada, he still felt grateful that his brother went through the trouble of keeping things safe. Normally, he would gaze out the window at the all too familiar sights of rural and small towns moving past. Yet neither the sights nor the agents could distract his mind from wondering why he even agreed to be on the trip.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Williams?" The man sitting in front of him spoke in a Maritimes accent crossed with haunting traces of ones commonly heard around Kiev. _Back when it still existed_, he thought bitterly.

"It-it's nothing at all," he feigned weakly. "Mr. Sakharov, right?"

"Um, yes sir. Captain Dimitri Sakharov at your service."

Matthew, however, knew more than that. The man was little more than a child when he and his family arrived in Nova Scotia in 1926. Yet he was in many ways as Canadian as they go. Worked hard for his family. Served with the Loyalist Community Watch. Made a decent living. Recently joined His Majesty's Honourable Corps of Gentlemen-at-Arms. But at the same time, he grew active in revivalist circles. And retained a shy, but warm-hearted aura despite hardships. He even had a similar build and hair color to an old love. _Just like her._

The Nation gave a soft smile. "Of course." He tried to change the topic, setting aside his previous thoughts. "This isn't official, but are you looking forward to seeing New Vienna? You can speak freely."

"Well, personally, um, I don't know how to say this properly." Dimitri fumbled to find the right words. "They're _supposed _to be our friends. But who hasn't heard the stories? The indiscriminate bombings? Mass killings? I've seen what happened in London."

_I was also there. _"But surely the New Austrians have long come to their senses by now."

"Perhaps, Mr. Williams. As much as I want to believe that, you just don't get away and live with that!" He paused briefly. "Forgive my, um, outburst. But as His Majesty wishes, I obey."

The Nation sympathized completely with his thoughts. And the more he pondered, the clearer it became that he, and the rest of his people, are very much a part of himself.

_Don't worry, Katya. They're safe. _"Carry on then, Captain. And please call me Matthew." There was silence for a moment. Finally, as the man prepared to take his leave, he took a deep breath.

"Your countrymen would be proud. _She_ definitely would, as I am of you," he said in Ukrainian. It was only after the man left that his eyes began to moisten.


	4. An Interlude: The Unseen Reel

**Author's Notes:**

Here's a bit of an interlude, showing an in-verse American propaganda recording that got cut for revealing some...unsettling things. Also, the English part of the text was deliberately made as exaggerated and overblown as possible.

_Zabrali nam wszystko! Jednak to nie wystarczy..._= Polish"They took everything from us! But this was not enough..."

_...minties atsikratyti mums visam laikui. Jis buvo ne taip paprasta, kaip jie manė ..._= Lithuanian"...tried to get rid of us forever. It was not as easy as they thought..."

_...Es tut weh ... das kann nicht ewig so weitergehen. Sie werden nicht aufhören. Sie dürfen nicht zulassen, dass diese Bastarde ..._= German"... it hurts ... can't go on like this forever. They will not stop. You mustn't let these bastards ..."

_...nous aider…arrêtez la folie. Arrêter la douleur. POUR L'AMOUR DE DIEU. AIDEZ-NOU_S! = French"...help us...stop the madness. Stop the pain. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. HELP US!"

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><p><strong>Of Loss and Madness: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>

**An Interlude**

_The late 1930s and early '40s marked the first successful attempts at regular televised programming over the airwaves. One rather secretive effort was a test broadcast in 1944 of a Wartime propaganda newsreel, commissioned by the American Civil Defense Watch to bolster morale. After its initial run to a select Allied committee, however, it was quickly scrapped; the reasons for which remain a mystery. Most suggest sabotage by Red agents. But for whatever reason, all but a handful of copies remain to this day. Here then is the [audio] recording in its entirety._  
>- Evidenzbureau Archives Division (1949)<p>

"The Red Menace. Brought to you by your local Civil Defense Watch.

'WAR.' Yes, friends, we are at war. At this very moment, out there in the fields of England, our boys and girls in the front are doing their best to protect our free, American way of life. Likewise our intrepid allies also fight to keep you and me safe. But here at home, friends, we must keep vigilant. We've all heard of Reds trying to sneak in and make all sorts of messes. Yet even with our country's finest patriots...

_Zabrali nam wszystko! Jednak to nie wystarczy..._

...if you see someone with ill intent and suspicious books, then he may be a Collectivist.

That housewife may be going to the local store, but looks can be deceiving. If she seems to get strange ideas and join those out-of-the-way meetings, then she may be...

_...minties atsikratyti mums visam laikui. Jis buvo ne taip paprasta, kaip jie manė..._

As much as possible, report these interlopers to your nearest police officer or Civil Defence Watchman...

_... Es tut weh ... das kann nicht ewig so weitergehen. Sie werden nicht aufhören. Sie dürfen nicht zulassen, dass diese Bastarde ..._

Remember: another Red caught is another win for the good guys! Whatever you do goes a long way...

_... nous aider…arrêtez la folie. Arrêter la douleur. POUR L'AMOUR DE DIEU. AIDEZ-NOUS!_

...must all get ready now! And with your help, friends, we can win this war. Your parents, your loved ones and even little Timmy are already doing their share. Don't let them down! Don't let those jolly folks get taken by the Menace! Don't let them take _you_!

Onward to victory! God bless America..."


	5. Chapter 4: The New Austrian Mind

**Author's Notes:**

If there's any real warning here, it's that things become decidedly darker and more graphic here. Granted, it's meant to show New Austria's rising insanity. But hopefully it's not _too_ dark.

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><p><strong>Of Loss and Madness: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>

Ruins of Salisbury, England. 13 February 1944.  
><strong><br>**Victory seemed assured. After hours of intense fighting, the RDNA's finest finally had the upper hand, having taken the Reds' main stronghold in the region. Whether the town itself could still be considered "intact" was of little significance; so long as the shells struck home, they were sure of killing an enemy.

Yet from the front of what had been the town hall, Francesca could still hear the sounds of gunfire coming from the fringes; all that remained, really, was to finish the job. _But so much more to do. _Still, she held control as a group of locals was brought before her unit, still struggling from their restraints.

"_Fraulein, _we found them over at the tenements north of here. They were apparently trying to hide from the fighting."

"Really, Janos?" She turned to one of the older captives, an old man in a grimy walking suit, only to be spit on.

"You bloody maniac! Expecting us to be _grateful _for freeing this town?"

Approaching the man, she started speaking in cold, accented English. "You ought to be, having just saved it from the Reds. But you should have gotten out of here while _they _were busy."

"And I suppose that includes your lads," he retorted. "Don't think we haven't seen what you've all done. You think the rest of us don't know of the roughhousing that just blew here? But who am I to judge before some spoiled, aristocratic tart who-"

"Shut up! Just being here makes you and your friends suspect." With each word, her tone became a strained sneer. She then turned back to Col. Mihaly. "What was it that your men found about those tenements?"

"_Fraulein, _are you sure this is necessary? These are only a bunch of townsfolk. The British won't l-"

"We'll be doing them a _favor_!" she snapped. "Now, what were they?"

"A Red propaganda center," he said hesitatingly. "They found some papers mentioning plans on London, dispatches from the Continent..."

By that point, however, Francesca was no longer listening. Indeed, it seemed as though she wasn't there anymore. If anything at all remained working in her mind, the fact that they were found there was all she needed. She could no longer wait to finish the job. All that showed was an all too familiar manic grin. "A _dead_ Red is better than a live one. Leave those bastards to me! _Is that clear, Colonel?_"

No sooner had he nodded reluctantly that she took out her ceremonial dagger, her pistol having run out of bullets. So long as there were Reds in sight, it was of no importance who or what stood from New Austria's goals; whether the locals really were who they claimed to be didn't matter. _I won't let them win! _her mind screamed_. They won't take me...must avenge...must kill...make them pay! MAKE THEM PAY!_

"Want to see what the Terror was _really_ like? _DO YOU?_"

The first traces of blood spattered on the Habsburg Eagle. None of the soldiers tried to stop her from the moment it started. Then again, it was war, after all. There was much more left to do.**  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 5: Beyond the Border

**Author's Notes:**

I thought of making the border regions more German...or rather, New Austrian as a sort of parallel to the real world US-Mexico dynamic. Also, "the Dominion War" mentioned is a reference to an in-story footnote in "The Personal Records of a Doctor:" a violent civil war (between Reds and Loyalists) that nearly destroyed Canada in the years just after the Terror initially ended; this is also the reason why he's also called "Loyalist Canada" from that time on in-verse.

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><p><strong>Of Loss and Madness: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>

South Oklahoma State/SüdStaat Oklahoma, American Federation. 9 May 1949.

The conductor said they were nearing the border. Whether or not Matthew listened, he knew it wasn't necessary; the signs were already visible past his window. The plains and overall atmosphere had given way to something more fitting to the Alps or _Mitteleuropa_. Even after efforts to Americanize the region, it would take a while to remove the old-style cabins and rustic roofs slipping past, let alone convince the locals to speak entirely in English. _At least she'd be happy to know that much. _Yet despite himself, he couldn't truly mask his anxiety; he hadn't been able to for a while. Then again, the alternative was worse.

"Lost in thought, aren't we?" The Nation hadn't noticed King Alexander approaching his seat. The monarch spoke in an accent almost blatantly British, yet betrayed traces of Russian.

"Erm, Sir?" he feigned. "It-it's nothing worrisome, Your Majesty. I just have a few things on my mind."

"It's about Ms. Edelstein-Hedervary, isn't it, Mattie?"

Unable to hide his apprehension, the Nation nodded. "True."

"We can't stop what's already happened, I'm afraid. The Krauts must know all too well about the weight of what they did."

"Of course, I agree. That's why we're going there to make things normal again."

"And you aren't so sure whether this is really necessary at all," he finished. "I know. Yet weren't we, you, the first to welcome her back?"

"As much as that mattered, yes." Matthew remembered the moment three years earlier. It was in a private meeting in New Vienna. As Canada, he had been with his Prime Minister, while the RDNA with hers. They talked little. Apologies were made. They shook hands. It was meant to be noble. _Yet it felt cold._ Her smile had been hollow. If their eyes met at all, it had been during their reluctant formalities. Neither of them spoke on the Liberation. On London. _What I did to her. _"It was as though we weren't really there..." His voice came out wavering. He also found it hard to stay focused.

"It must have pained you to have...'held her back' the way you did," the King frowned. "But then again, _none _of us escaped unaffected. Neither the Terror, Dominion War nor Liberation. All that's left is to mend scars."

"And stay sane," he murmured. No one needed to hear the details in all their blood-stained horror any more than was necessary. _There's no point escaping it._

"_Da,_" Alexander smirked before standing up. "We'll be reaching the border any moment. Try to sleep, Mattie. It will help ease the pain. Hopefully anyway."

All that the Nation could do was nod in appreciation. If there was a smile, he was too tired to have made it obvious.

Soon enough, the train came to a halt. Not long after, a handful of guards entered the car. The Nation watched as they gave their respects and went about the routines. One was a light tanned mixed-blood characteristic of many New Austrians. The others more clearly resembled nationalities that no longer existed. All of them, despite their crisp service uniforms, looked barely older than his physical self. All showed the same stiffness. Awkwardness. Reluctance. Unease. _Regret. I guess the feeling's neutral, eh, Francesca?_

As the men left, Matthew finally closed his eyes. He needed the rest. As the train started to move once more, he found himself back in the sight of sunflower fields. For a moment, he sensed a distant yet familiar voice calling out. And crying. Followed by the sounds of shells, screams and inhumane shrieking.

Then silence.


	7. Another Interlude: A Talk in the Pub

**Author's Notes:**

Here's another interlude. For this one, I tried having the scene done entirely in dialogue. Especially when you consider who's actually talking here. Also, as a hint, the "tart" being referred to also happened to be known as a Kraut...

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><p><strong>Of Loss and Madness: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>

**Another Interlude**

Central Dover, Kent, England. 14 September 1947

"Ha! Told you I still got it, you wanker! Another pint, Barman!"

"Don't you think you've had enough to drink, bro?"

"Look who's talking? If you're so worried for time, don't. We've got all day here!"

"Easy for you to say. Who was the one that was pushing to-"

"You didn't need to! I could move myself better and faster than that travesty of a stroll...but thanks."

"Heh. It was me or Mattie, anyway. Besides, what _is _it with you and those cliffs?"

"First of all, you brat, those happen to called the 'White Cliffs' of Dover. One of those national treasures that _wasn't_ blown to kingdom come? Where was I? Right, that. It's nothing to fuss about. Just a little habit of mine over the years."

"And no earlier than the Terror. Like you'd do something like this _before _that."

"Don't patronize me! At least I don't have gloomy marble slabs here like that tart. There's no need there. And to think her parents...well, that's not the point! On a good day, you get a good sight of the Channel and all the ships keeping those bastards from coming back here. Beyond that...well, there used to be a town called Calais. Used to have a cottage there back in the day before Francis took it back. Doesn't matter anymore whether that frog kept it intact. The buggers burned it down along with the rest of the place. Damn it all! Fill me another one!"

"Hey! Don't overdo it! Remember the last time you did that?"

"Just _listen_ to me for once, you wanker? There's something else. Look at that table. See those chaps? They're refugee-bloods, but they're as much a part of me as they were to France. Yet here's the thing: there's always a bit of that damn frog himself in their faces and looks _every time _I look at them. It's in their children, too. God, have you seen the bloody Revivalists lately? It makes me wonder.

"We've all shrugged off things that would shame a man. Definitely more than you, by the way. Yet _they've_ supposedly found ways to rid us off permanently. But how does that explain all that shit I said? Or perhaps those strange tales you've no doubt heard? Suppose they're still _alive_ somewhere?"

"Um, Arthur, I think you've taken _way_ too much booze for one day."

"It wasn't just those refugees. I've sensed...no, _seen_ some of those strange things. Just a few days ago, I tried tapping into the Red channels. Thought I heard Belgium screaming in the static...you probably think I'm pulling this stuff out of my arse, do you Alfred?"

"Well, you _do _look pretty hammered. But let's face it: they're dead. Shouldn't that be fucking obvious by now?"

"It's hard to believe. Hell, _I_ find it bloody absurd. Then again..."

"I guess. After all, we never really escaped the Terror, didn't we? Pal? Heh. Told you that was too much."


	8. Chapter 6:  A Kraut's Desperate Mind

**Author's Notes:**

I included some gratuitous Hungarian in this part, partly since the human character in question happened to be a Magyar. Or if you want, a "child of Hungary" going more than a tad uneasy as to where his new adopted country is headed.

_Új Ausztria_: New Austria

_Nem_: "No."

_te bolond_: "you fool..."

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><p><strong>Of Loss and Madness: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>

Outside Bichester, England, United Kingdom. 15 April 1944.

"_Meine...Fraulein_," Col. Mihaly reported haltingly as he saluted. "We've...managed to wipe out every last one in the town. London should...now be within reach."

"Is that all?" Francesca asked sharply as she finished buttoning her uniform. It unnerved the Magyar officer more and more to gaze at her piercing eyes or hear her in such cold, uncaring tones. Outside the tent, his eyes could make out the familiar dark grey shapes of bombers and zeppelins moving through the cloudy afternoon sky. It helped keep his thoughts from the unpleasantness, as well as the nagging sense that her voice seemed to sound _different_.

"_Nein..._" he replied, feeling both reluctant and frustrated. "Our soldiers are growing more and more impatient for vengeance against the Reds. They...are willing to do _anything _to finish this war. However..."

"However _what_, Janos?"

Resisting the urge to flinch, he continued. "A number of men and officers have become...uncomfortable with the proceedings. They believe that our actions have already crossed the line. More Brits have died by our hands than the Reds."

"With all respect, you seem to be missing something," she shot back, her voice increasingly taking on an edge he couldn't describe. "_Herr_ Williams and the Canadians can protest for all they want. But many of England's own have already fallen to _their _creed. And a dead Red is better than a live one. Surely most would agree that we're doing our allies a great service in ending this war quickly! Perhaps we should make use of those atomic..."

"_Nem_," he muttered sternly, taking a few cautious steps closer. "If I may speak freely _Fraulein_, this isn't right at all. There's no order, honor, dignity...I implore you to use your powers to reconsider our strategy."

"You claim that _I've_ crossed the line, my good _Oberst_. I _strongly _suggest you not to cross any more of them." For a moment, the man wasn't sure if the faint rumble he just heard came from the panzers outside or her increasingly inhuman voice. It seemed as though it was no longer Francesca talking but rather the pent-up and feral anger of an entire population more interested in satisfying its urge for blood than anything else.

"What has become of you, _Új Ausztria_?" he forced himself to snap out. "We are destroying ourselves at this rate! Have you become blind to the madness!"

"That's _enough _from you," she sneered.

"So what then? This isn't what your parents..._anyone _for that matter would have wanted!"

"Mama and Papa would have done the same against them! Those bastards..."

"THEY'RE DEAD! Isn't that clear by now, _te bolond_? What difference is there when we're spilling as much blood a-" He suddenly found himself being tossed towards the other end of the tent as the young lady, clearly struggling to repressed whatever primal anger had just come out, lurched towards his direction. But just as she was ready to unsheathe her ceremonial knife, the Nation forced herself to throw it aside.

"I'm sorry. It's not you..." the Nation muttered as something resembling her old voice came through. "But be warned: I don't know if it will be the same next time. Against _them, _I will NOT tolerate any more insolence."

Calmly, though with a sharp jolt of pain, the old officer stood up and fixed up his uniform. "I...guess that will be all, _Fraulein_. So what is our next move?"

By then, she was looking out, towards the massing soldiers bracing themselves for what was increasingly becoming a massive battle which could decide the fate of the entire campaign. There was an almost feral look in her eyes as she turned back. "We burn London."


	9. Chapter 7: At the Heart of a Nation

**Author's Notes:**

This particular chapter skips ahead towards Canada actually arriving at his destination, which hopefully through the station shows more or less the state of the world more-or-less 20 years after the Terror.

Also, _Grüß Gott _is an actual common Austrian greeting. It literally means "God be with you" in English.

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><p><strong>Of Loss and Madness: A RDNA-verse Tale<strong>

Neu Wien, Royal Dominion of New Austria. 10 May 1949.

"_...Grüß Gott. Wir haben bei unserem Reiseziel angekommen. Willkommen bei der Neu Wien...Warm tidings. We have arrived at our destination. Welcome to New Vienna..._"

Matthew Williams listened to the tinny recording as the train finally came to a halt. From his window, he could still see the smoke wisps on the platform. Past the steel columns and empty tracks left over from another time, members of the New Austrian press were patiently waiting, their notebooks and cameras in plain sight. _Not that they would notice me, anyway, _the Canadian sighed to himself.

"Um, Sir?" Captain Dimitri Sakharov asked awkwardly as he approached the young-looking blonde's seat. "Do you know where Mr. Williams is?"

"Please," he weakly smiled back as he forced back an eye twitch. "Call me Matthew. But I'm glad you remembered my name...unlike certain people."

"Sorry about that," the Ukrainian-blood replied, trying to mask any further embarrassment from his face. "His Majesty tasked me to remind you about the, erm, security procedures..."

He nodded quietly as the officer went on about precautions he already knew and found unnecessary; he couldn't fault him for following orders. As the very Nation itself he could slip past Francesca's people without trying, if he really wanted. But in this day and age, his leaders had found it important to make up more stringent measures in keeping him from harm's way. _Or is it from her?_

"Thank you very much for the concern, Dimitri. But please take a seat," he beckoned the man. "I take this will take a while." His eyes were already wandering towards the window once more as King Alexander set foot on the Habsburg capital amidst the muffled sounds of flashes and unusually enthusiastic chatter. Yet as much as he looked forward to seeing New Austria again, another part of him was still bitter over her part in the Liberation and his in trying to stop her.

He tried thinking of the meeting soon to take place, as well as the evening ball that would come after. How he really wants to give her the benefit of a doubt. But now that he's deep inside her domain, it couldn't be avoided any longer. He thought of London. The destruction of Buckingham Palace. The bloodshed. The horrific infighting. The look on her face. _No..._ he forced himself back to reality. _It wasn't supposed to have ended like that! All of that's over!_

"Um, Mr. Matthew?" the officer called out, noticing the sweat coming from his watch and the nods from the few remaining aides. "It looks to be time to query ourselves out, eh?"  
>After several minutes of waiting, the reporters were finally gone, the King having been taken to the chartered car outside. With a soft sigh, the Canadian stood and went for his luggage. With Dimitri in tow, he accompanied the remaining men and women out into the empty station.<p>

As they went towards the exit, the Nation noticed a large mosaic hanging over that end of the station that had clearly seen better days. It was a map of the old railway and dirigible routes that led to the Habsburg capital. For the most part it was still intact, if not for the crumbling and grime covered marks where the Austro-Hungarian Crownlands were supposed to be. It was at times like this that his own inner pains seemed to hit the hardest.

"Oh my. Would you know what to do, Katya?"

"Erm, Sir?"

"Nothing. Carry on."


End file.
